We Can But Try
by newyorktopaloalto
Summary: As everyone knows, Bones is Jim's primary doctor. This is the first full medical check-up they go through, doctor to patient. Tarsus IV. Angst.


A/N: The other Tarsus IV challenge entry I made. I like this one as well, if only for the Sherlock Holmes references.

File this under: Things that should have been TOS, but I was stupid and put references that only Reboot has.

Warnings: Mentions of Tarsus IV.

Disclaimer: Nope. No sir.

**~*Tarsus*~**

"Why is it that I sometimes feel as though I'm the Watson to your Holmes?"

"Bones! It's because you're a doctor! And obviously my-"

"If another word comes out of your mouth I'll cut your tongue out with a scalpel."

"Bones, you're so mean to me. Threatening me with archaic medical tools. That, might I add, archaic medical tools that you swore you would never even use on your ex. And that's saying something. So this is you breaking your promise Bones, and that says something about the sad state you are in. Very sad Bones, threatening your best friend like that."

Bones waited for a second, Jim looking at him eagerly, a lavish smirk on his face.

"Are you done yet?" he asked when a few seconds had gone by.

"Yes," Jim nodded, pulling his fingers over his mouth in a zipping motion, "I am so done it's not even funny. There are no bounds to how done I am. Everyone in the universe will hear my-"

"Just say it."

"It's because you're a doctor! And obviously my sidekick!"

Bones nodded resignedly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and middle finger. He looked up after a few nods and grinned at his companion.

Jim looked at him warily, backing slightly up to put some distance between the two of them. "What is it Bones?"

"I'm your attending physician, correct?"

Jim glanced side-to-side, backing up further when Bones' grin turned the slightest bit malicious. "Um, yeah?" he ended in a question, clearly afraid to answer the rhetorical question.

"Do you know what I think you need?" he didn't wait for Jim to answer, "I think that you need a full medical checkup."

At Jim's blanch, Bones started emitting a sound that he was now afraid to tell him was clearly a maniacal giggle. He stopped after a moment, though still clearly enjoying Jim's apparent discomfort. He nodded again, though this time triumphantly, and started to walk away.

"Oh come on Bones! You know that Watson was always my favourite character!"

"You're due in my office at 2:00 tomorrow, right after your self-defense course!" Bones yelled over his shoulder, waving jauntily at Jim with his briefcase.

**~* Tarsus*~**

Jim grumbled as answer at Bones' 'Who is it?' and opened the door unhappily. Bones turned around and greeted Jim happily, gesturing him over to the stark exam table that occupied the furthest wall from the door.

"Watson, I do believe that this is the worst idea you've had in ages and that does not preclude the time that-"

"Strip."

"Why Watson, I never knew you felt that way about-"

"Strip now and put this on or else I'll get Cupcake out of his tactics class and have him do it for you."

"Watson, why are you always so mean to me?" Jim asked, shrugging out of his cadet reds whilst doing so, "I mean, I'm expecting it from Bones who is grumpy more often than a Vulcan who was told they were illogical, but from you? Watson? My loyal sidekick with whom I can always trust my deepest and darkest secrets and then we solve crime together? This demeanor I was never expecting out of you."

"I'm so confused as to why you're comparing me to a fictional character," Bones said, going up to Jim and running his tricorder quickly over his body for the initial scan.

"It's a metaphor Bones. A metaphor of epic proportions."

Bones just shook his head, signaling Jim to turn around on the table.

Jim paled for a second and made to stand up, saying: "I think we're good now Bones, don't you? I'm perfectly healthy, tip top shape even. I feel so awesome that no drug could make me feel any awesomer. More awesome? ... Well, some form of awesomeness."

Bones just looked at him and Jim sat down obediently, squirming slightly on the cool exam table.

"What's wrong anyway, you're not usually this jumpy when I patch you up from some god-awful fight you were in."

"There's nothing wrong Bones," Jim laughed, the sound completely false to even his own ears, "I just remembered that there was something important that I totally forgot to do and if I don't get it done by, um, now, I'll die. Slowly. And painfully. Worse than your archaic medical tools could ever do to me."

Bones looked concerned and moved in closer to his friend. "Seriously, what's up Jim? You're not normally this evasive, or bad at lying."

"It's nothing Bones, don't worry about it. Besides," he added, looking resigned to the inevitable (what inevitable situation, Bones didn't know, but it was a resigned look nonetheless) "besides, you'll just probably figure it out in a few minutes anyway."

He finished with his voice lowered to a whisper, wanting Bones to both understand his words and find them incomprehensible. Bones looked at him curiously for a second before running the tricorder over Jim's back. He paused, checked the readings, and passed over his lower back again.

"What the hell?" he muttered, shaking the tricorder as if to change the readings by force.

"Or now." Jim added to his previous statement, pulling up his undershirt to show Bones his, now revealed, scar tissue.

Bones looked at it closer, bangs lightly brushing Jim's back as he studied the scars intently.

"What is this?" he asked, hands tracing the barely raised, pale markings on Jim's skin.

"Look for a pattern."

The skin was almost white in colour, marking the scars as occurring in childhood, and smooth, marking them as intentional rather than a trip or a fall. It was a circle, small lines coming out horizontally and on the top of the circle. There was a longer line on the bottom of a circle, indicating that it was a cross. Inside of the circle was the letter 'K' written in an almost calligraphic script, the lines careful and intricate.

He stared at it for a second, blinking owlishly while his mind ran through his modern history textbooks from college. Circle with a cross and the letter 'K'. 'K' for Kodos, and the circle cross his mark for his chosen people, with himself as their messiah.

"Tarsus IV."

Jim sighed and nodded, pulling his shirt back down. "Tarsus IV," he agreed.

"You were there?"

All he got was a withering look in return and Jim abruptly standing up to leave. He was halfway across the room before Bones had the presence of mind to stop him.

"Wait!" he called, grabbing tightly onto Jim's wrist so he couldn't leave, "Just wait for a second and let me process that my best friend went through something that terrible and faced it alone all these years."

"Maybe I didn't face it alone," Jim countered, the back of his neck turning red, belaying the truth, "Maybe I spoke to counselors over the years that helped get me through my terrible ordeal and everything is now hunky-dory."

"And Klingons are a favoured species within the Federation. Give me a break Jim, I know you. I know that you wanted to face it alone because that's how you faced everything else in your life. I know that you were afraid to appear weak so you just pretended it never happened and went on with your life. I know, and I want to help."

"You can't help Bones. It's my deal and I need to get over it."

Jim pulled his wrist out of Bones' grip, not facing Bones, but not leaving either.

"I want to help. And if I don't help then what will happen? You'll just forget for another 10 years before experiencing a flashback or PTSD when you encounter a famine in your space travels. What will happen then? I may not be there to help you and you won't let anyone else in enough. So just let me help."

"Bones-" Jim started, spinning on his heel slowly in defeat, "Bones, please don't make me do this all at once."

"You don't have to Jim. You can take as long as you need to, whenever you want to. I'll always be here to listen."

Jim gazed into his eyes for a few moments, as if testing the validity of his statements. Bones fought to push only his gentle demeanor into his gaze as his eyes held Jim's.

Jim nodded, as if an unspoken question had been answered, and pulled Bones out of his examination room.

"Well Watson," he started, voice full of false cheer, "It starts like this. I was 11 years old and had just wrecked my dad's old Corvette…"


End file.
